Saving The Marquise's Granddaughter

by Carrie Fancett Pagels

  He chortled. Had he allowed her to knock him over?

  The cow mooed.

  “What exactly are you teaching her, Brother?” Nicholas’s voice mocked. “She probably learned how to do more than that back home. N’est-ce pas?”

  Johan lifted her off him before rolling to his side. He jumped up and jerked Nicholas off the floor.

  “Put him down, Johan.” Suzanne covered her mouth. Would he hit him?

  Nicholas’s face blanched.

  Adam’s boots crackled on the straw. “What are you doing? Haven’t we had enough death on this land? Johan—your brothers, all gone…stop at once.”

  Johan released his captive.

  Face contorted, Nicholas grabbed the milk pail and dumped the contents on Johan’s head before pushing past his father and out the door.

  Johan shook off the liquid, grabbed a tub from a peg, and headed toward the well.

  Suzanne’s heart hammered. She’d never witnessed family members fighting like that. Guy argued with her, but he’d never touched her in anger. But if Nicholas had said those words in front of Guy? Her brother was a godly man, but she had no doubt what he would do. And the blow would hurt for a long time.

  8

  A rattling sound broke through Suzanne’s thin haze of sleep.

  The noise repeated and the wooden legs of the chair placed under the doorknob screeched softly as they wobbled against the floor. She hesitated.

  Nicholas was tasked with securing Johan in their room overhead. Who was trying to enter the room? Nicholas?

  In her fog, she searched for the rapier she’d forgotten at Aunt Louisa’s home.

  “Oma,” Johan’s low voice called out, accompanied by a light rap.

  Thank God, it wasn’t Nicholas.

  Suzanne forced her limbs out from under the quilts. Johan would never hurt me. Even in her exhaustion, something in her spirit recognized this truth.

  “Please…” The gentlest voice from such a large person.

  It broke her heart. Suzanne pulled the slatted chair away from the door, and it swung in. Johan slipped into the bed. She clapped her hands over her mouth.

  “Nice and warm here.”

  She stared at his strong profile, reflected in the moonlight. She tensed as she realized what she’d done. In her exhaustion, she hadn’t considered. She shouldn’t have opened the door.

  “Get in.”

  She stayed rooted by the door. I’ve made so many bad decisions. Suzanne hesitated. But she’d opened the door. “Wait. Be patient.”

  The wide chair sat in the other corner of the room.

  She could sleep there. Stumbling slightly, she made her way around the bed to the other side.

  “Schmusen.”

  What did that mean?

  He rolled to his side and held his arms out before tugging her hand, outstretched to pull one of the quilts from the bed. She toppled forward into the bed, landing on top of him with a thud. She gasped.

  Johan pushed her off.

  Her heart pounded.

  A low growl accompanied his words. “What are you doing?” He rubbed his forehead, frowning. Certainly, he didn’t look like a man intent on harming her. There was something both frightening and tempting about remaining there by his side. Johan rubbed his mouth. “Suzanne. I’m sorry. I don’t know what…”

  “It’s all right.” She eased out from beneath the covers and slid her feet to the floor.

  He groaned. “I don’t know what happened.”

  Even in her confusion, she knew. “Nicholas left the door unlatched.” But why?

  “Ja, he must have. I’m sorry.”

  ~*~

  “Did you rest well, my dear?” Johan’s mother pressed her palms against each side of Suzanne’s face and brushed her lips against Suzanne’s forehead; cinnamon scent pleasantly reminded her of Grand-mère’s kitchen.

  “Oui,” but her hands shook as she clasped the mug of warm milk between her hands.

  Johan sat across from her, instead of beside her on the bench. “Morning, Mama.” His voice was low, tentative.

  “Why don’t you sit by Suzanne?” Nicholas demanded, as he ambled into the kitchen and kissed his mother. When there was no response, Nicholas slipped in next to Suzanne, his hard thigh nudging hers.

  She moved as close to the edge as she could without falling off.

  Johan’s sea-blue orbs fixed on her. He lowered his head, chewed his food, and then stared back at her. He seemed positively addled today. Perhaps the result of his episode.

  But she didn’t want to ask Maria. She’d talk with Johan later. “Johan, will you show me how to milk the cows again today?” Suzanne gave him her sweetest smile.

  He took his plate to the dry sink, came back to the table, and removed Suzanne’s before returning, taking her by the hand, and pulling her free from the bench. “We try again, but this time we sing to them. Make them relax and let down their milk.”

  “I see.” She didn’t. Singing to cows? “Before I forget, what does schmusen mean?”

  Three pairs of eyes turned upon her.

  Johan quirked an eyebrow at her. “Means cuddle. Like a child on a parent’s lap. A good word. Why do you ask?”

  Johan’s mother gave him a pointed look. “After the milking practice, send Suzanne back to me.”

  Half an hour later, she returned, washed up and slipped on her work apron.

  Fruit bread, baking in the hearth, wafted its sweet aroma as Maria sat chopping vegetables for the next meal. “I’m surprised you mother didn’t teach you to bake.”

  She needed to change the subject of cooking. “I can stitch a good seam.”

  Maria smiled at her. “Yes, Johan told me. You can help me make his new coat.”

  Her stomach sank. “I’ll try.”

  “We’ll start in a little bit by measuring a new waistcoat for Johan. He has outgrown his good coat. Noel, his cousin, has a new baby and the baby will be baptized soon.” Dark eyes surveyed her critically. “We’ll teach you to cook, bake and to eat what you make. We’ll fatten you up, child.”

  “I haven’t eaten so much since before…” Tears pricked her eyes. “Maman had gotten sick.” Maybe not since she was a child at Grand-mère’s, before all the secrecy of what was required of a Huguenot family at court.

  Had her brother been killed? Or had he started a new life without her? Was Guy in Amsterdam as planned, while she waited here until the next group of people could leave for the colonies?

  “I miss my French family, also—an aunt and uncle I love dearly.” Maria set her knife down on the chopping board.

  The door flew open. Cold, earthy morning air preceded Johan into the room.

  “Suzanne!” Heavy boots splattered clumps of mud across the wide, wooden planks of the floor. “Come see the baby lambs.”

  Amazing how he could communicate in a few words exactly what she needed to know. She laughed.

  Johan turned and exited, slamming the front door.

  Maria threw her hands in the air. “Put on that coat from the peg, Suzanne, and go ahead.”

  Suzanne slipped into her boots, put on the heavy, coarsely woven coat, and fled. Rich, springtime earth greeted her, and she tilted her face toward the warm sun.

  A warm hand grasped hers and Johan pulled her toward the barn. He lifted the largest of the new lambs, offering it to her.

  She hesitated, humbled by the tiny creature’s exquisite construction. A divine hand formed such beauty. She tucked the lamb into her arms.

  “All perfect, Suzie.” Warmth, love, and joie de vivre. How could one young man roll that into just three words? Johan could probably convert King Louis. So charming, yet he didn’t realize it.

  “Suzanne,” she corrected him. The reduced name had no dignity.

  “Ah, let me call you Suzie.”

  His slow grin caused her heart to catch in her throat. She couldn’t let him affect her like this.

  “No, I refuse.” Suzanne lifted her nose in the air as his ni
mble fingers tickled her through the back of her coat. “Stop that!” She shrugged off the assault. On second thought, the king was safe in his faith.

  “Come, bring your lamb with you.”

  Not her lamb. Tempted to place it back with its mother, instead, she followed Johan.

  “Time to tend the horses.”

  Leaning against the doorframe of the barn, clutching the baby lamb, Suzanne watched in the shadows as Johan retrieved and rubbed liniment into the horse’s knee. His touch was gentle, but thorough, and the motions soothed Suzanne, too.

  “There, not so hot now, girl, ja?”

  She coughed, the dust in the barn thick. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I’m not sure, but that knee keeps swelling.”

  She had to ride the horse again, to get back on her journey. Their group didn’t depart for weeks, but she wouldn’t wait that long.

  Pipe smoke, sweetly cloying, trailed Adam into the barn. “Let me look.”

  Johan unkinked his long frame and loped to her side, but not before giving the half-smile that always sent shivers up her spine. Stop, she instructed her quivering knees when she sensed the wonderful heat coming from him in the chilly barn.

  He frowned before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. “You’re cold. Go get one of Grandmother’s shawls before you come back out.”

  But she didn’t move.

  And he didn’t release her. He stroked Suzanne’s arm as his father continued to feel along the mare’s front knee. “Not lame, Suzanne, but she will be if she doesn’t rest.”

  “I’ll get the other horses ready for the trip to Noel’s, Papa. How much meat should we bring them?”

  “Danke, we’ll need both horses ready. With that new babe on the way, I want to bring extra for his wife. Maybe some venison and ham.”

  Suzanne placed a hand against the mare’s side. “Would anything else help her heal more quickly?”

  The skin between Adam’s eyebrows puckered. “Only time will help.”

  Johan affected a fatherly tone and patted the horse. “No long rides for you for a while.”

  Suzanne bit back disappointment. Maybe Guy was coming for her. Reaching into her pocket, she fingered the smooth beads. Her hands shook. But Grand-mère’s rosary no longer provided the immediate balm it once had. She’d get out one of Grand-père’s coins, too. She recalled Jeanne once stating, “Between your grandmother’s faith and your grandfather’s riches, you have quite an inheritance.”

  Jeanne. She’d get word to her. If anyone knew where her brother was, it was her old friend. Guillame was angry with Jeanne—he hated that her friend disregarded his advice about Pierre. But surely, he would forgive Jeanne. He’d always had a soft spot in his heart for her, no matter what she’d done.

  The tight queue at the base of her neck vexed her. She pulled the ribbon from her hair, shaking her head and releasing her hair. For now, she’d stay put. She’d rest and ready herself.

  Johan smiled down at her. “Will you help Mama make my new coat?”

  “Oui.”

  Observing as Johan exited the gate and bisected the yard, she ascertained that his infernal pregnant “pet” was munching grass by the fence. She sped after Johan, hoping the ornery animal wouldn’t bother her.

  The nanny goat ran toward the gate, blocking it. “Maah!” Green grass hung down from the goat’s mouth as she bared her long yellow teeth.

  Nicholas whistled tunelessly behind her. “Afraid of a nanny goat?”

  Suzanne didn’t bother to turn around. She was to help Maria with Johan’s new garment. She’d been measured many times herself and had been with Guy when the family tailor had come to their apartment. No animal, nanny or not, would prevent her from getting to the house.

  The nanny chomped on more grass.

  Suzanne motioned. “Shoo!”

  Nicholas laughed. “She’s not a fly.”

  Suzanne shook off the chill that dripped down her spine, and moved toward the goat. She didn’t fear the nanny, or Nicholas. No, she feared herself and her reaction to the young man whose coat she would soon be fitting. Wrapping string snugly around Johan’s broad shoulders. Standing close to him, absorbing his warmth.

  The door to the house opened, then banged closed behind Johan. “Ready?”

  ~*~

  Mama left to talk with Papa, leaving Johan alone in the kitchen with Suzanne.

  “We need to finish measuring you.” Suzanne gestured for him to raise his arms up and out.

  Such intimate contact felt awkward, but he complied. Her lip was twitching. Was she nervous? He cleared his throat. “You’ve done this before?” He desperately needed a new frock coat. He’d not be a laughingstock at the christening of Noel’s new babe.

  She shook her head and passed the paper strip behind his back with her right hand. She leaned in.

  When her chest pressed into his, he tensed and sucked in his breath. He took hold of her shoulders and gently pushed her away from him even as he imagined pulling her closer.

  Pink spread across her pretty face.

  “You should have walked around me, Suzie.”

  She seemed speechless.

  “Here. Let me have the end.” He held the strip to his chest. His heart pounded against the fragile paper.

  Her head bent low. She closed the end piece and cut the paper. Standing only inches from him she looked up, the centers of her eyes wide and dark against the amber rim.

  He inhaled her sweet scent. What a good wife she would be. A good mother. His face heated as his mind followed that thought. Ja, but her face was as flushed as his probably had to be. Did she share his feelings?

  A life together as husband and wife required more than strong emotions, though. What a shame the poverty she’d endured had left her lacking simple skills. Tonight, she’d prepare dinner again. Suzanne’s mother must have been ill for years and neglected her training. But thank God, Mama had taken her under her wing.

  Maybe they did have a chance together, after all. Only time would tell.

  9

  Finally, Suzanne had prepared dinner without any disasters.

  The Rousch men sat at the table, staring up, reminding her of baby birds waiting for a worm to be dropped in their mouths.

  She stifled a laugh. Suzanne offered the tray of poultry to Johan and he flipped a piece onto his plate. The right side of his mouth lifted up in mischief.

  His mother wagged a finger at him and shook her head.

  Nicholas ladled out his portion of roasted chicken and vegetables. A muscle in his face twitched. “Nothing burnt, Suzanne.”

  Suzanne glared at the handsome wretch as she pulled the pan away and brought it to Johan’s father, her head lifted high.

  Johan grabbed the wood cutting board, knife, and a loaf of rye and began to slice large portions. His gaze met hers as though they both felt the tension in the room, which was thicker than the heavy bread he now cut.

  Nicholas made room on his plate for the cabbage Maria moved from her plate to his.

  Adam cleared his throat. “You did a fine job delivering the baby goats, Johan.”

  “Danke, Papa.” His cheeks grew pink at the praise.

  She smiled at him.

  “Your best meal yet, Suzanne.” Johan passed the bread.

  “Merci.”

  “Ja, it’s good. Tender. My teeth aren’t in danger tonight.” He opened his mouth and clicked his teeth together.

  Of all the nerve! Easing onto the trestle next to him, Suzanne stomped his toe with her boot.

  “Ow. Why did you do that?”

  She dropped her voice. “You know why.”

  Nicholas snickered and placed bread onto her plate. “He knows. Don’t let my brother’s innocent face fool you.”

  Suzanne rolled her eyes in exasperation. “How is my horse?”

  Johan wiped his mouth and set his napkin in his lap. “Do you miss riding?”

  Miss riding? Is he crazy? Perhaps he’d not realized how fa
r she’d ridden across France.

  After he swiped another bread slice, Johan slathered it with butter that she and Maria had churned.

  Suzanne rubbed her still-aching arms.

  Adam smiled indulgently at her. “Perhaps another week, then a practice ride.”

  Suzanne tried to ease the dismay from her face. A week. “I see.” She clamped her teeth together trying to prevent a scream of frustration. Might she take their little-used horse?

  Adam brushed his hand across Maria’s cheek.

  The woman blushed, and Suzanne’s face grew warm with pleasure at their simple display of affection. She’d never see such acts of devotion between her parents again. I’m an orphan. She must fulfill the vow she’d made to her mother. She must discover if her brother had survived. Suzanne turned toward Johan. “What part did you do delivering the goats, Johan?”

  “I saved the smallest baby goat—she’s a feisty one.”

  Adam beamed. “I’m proud of you.”

  Nicholas’s handsome face twitched as though in insult.

  “I pulled her out. She was stuck.” Johan combed his fingers through his beard. “That’s what it took, Suzie.”

  His familiarity caused her spine to jerk up as though a string pulled her from the top of her head, like the marionettes she’d watched as a child. “Don’t call me that,” she hissed into his ear before adding, “s’il vous plaît.” It was improper to use a diminutive name with her—she of the noblesse ancienne. Yet this man she’d allowed into her room, into her bed the night he’d sleepwalked. Regardless of the fact that she wasn’t in bed with him, intimacy was there. Warmth spread across her chest under the ties to her blouse. She felt like tugging the garment up over her head and tying it there.

  She’d been here much too long—Johan was becoming much too close. But could she really leave them with no horse? Nothing for transportation in the event of an emergency? She smoothed out the full apron over her costume. She was playing the part of a farm girl in a theatrical performance, but she wasn’t on a Paris stage. And she was developing alarmingly real feelings for Johan.

  Nicholas tore off a huge chunk of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. From beneath heavily fringed eyelashes, Johan’s brother seemed to take her measure. “Where did you say you grew up, Suzanne?”